Incest

When my first wife, Anne, was in the hospital awaiting the delivery of our second daughter, her mother and youngest sister, Candi, came to Bozeman to help out. Candi’s husband was in jail and she had filed for divorce.

Mae, Anne’s mother, had to return to Shelby (a distance of about 200 miles) to perform some errand — and was gone two nights while Anne was in the hospital. Candi remained behind to cook for me and help get the house ready for Anne’s return.

Candi, at 17, was a very attractive girl with a beautiful hourglass figure. After mom left for Shelby, Candi decided the house was too warm for all those pesky clothes, and the next thing I knew, she was parading around the house clad only in her bra and a tiny pair of baggy shorts, displaying her long, coltish legs to their best advantage.

After supper, we played cards for a short time in the kitchen, but I had a painting I needed to work on, so I moved into the living room and began to prepare the color mixtures on my palette. I wasn’t really in the mood to paint, and consequently, I had difficulty concentrating, especially after Candi returned to the living room and sprawled full length on the couch.

Somewhat to my chagrin, she was studying a copy of “Playboy” I had hidden in our bedroom. Her legs were carelessly spread, one extending full length on the couch toward me, while her right foot rested on the floor.

At first, I noticed only the magazine she held in her hands, but then I realized it concealed her face, and since she couldn’t see me, I began openly admiring her girlish bra covered breasts. While I was studying her figure, she absently reached down to scratch her groin and adjust her shorts. That adjustment resulted in opening one leg so I could see her panties.

Although I felt my cock stir in response, I was sure her flashing was accidental. A few minutes later, she sat up and hooked her thumbs under her bra cups. “This thing is getting awfully uncomfortable. Would you mind if I took it off?”

“I’d like you to take it off,” I said without thinking. I tried to recover. “I mean I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

I tried to ignore her knowing look toward my crotch, now hidden beneath easel on my lap, as if to say but it looks like it’s making you uncomfortable! I couldn’t think of anything clever to say, so I just grinned and watched her reach behind and unhook her bra. Then she hunched her shoulders forward, letting the straps fall off her shoulders. Watching me, she held the bra cups in place for a moment or two, then lifted them away, letting her breasts bounce free. She dropped her bra in her lap and massaged her breasts, especially rubbing the reddened places where the bra had chafed under her breasts and on her ribs.

I don’t know if I have ever seen anything as erotic as the way she rubbed her breasts. I was openly staring like a teen age boy, of course, wondering where this was going to lead us.

She seemed unperturbed by my attention. “Ah,” she sighed. “That feels a lot better.”

Her breasts were firm, but almost as large as Anne’s so they quivered as if they were molded from jelly whenever she moved. I hadn’t realized until then that her areola still had the puffiness of adolescence, and almost automatically, I began to speculate how tight her young pussy was and, more to the point, how it would feel around my cock, which even then was straining to lift the palette on my lap. I longed to begin stroking it.

“It must be tough,” she said in an offhand manner, “for a man — especially a young man like you — to have to go without when your wife is near the end of her pregnancy.”

Jesus Christ! Was that an invitation? “Would you like me to help rub some of those red spots?” I asked while inwardly wondering where I had found the necessary courage to proposition her.

“That would be nice,” she said. “I can’t reach where the clasp was rubbing my back.” She rolled over on her stomach. Relieved that she couldn’t see my erection, I moved to the couch and sat gingerly on the edge against her hip.

The bra strap had left marks on her back. I gently began massaging those reddened places. It seems I’m always surprised by how soft and warm female skin is. Candi was no exception. The gentle rubbing soon expanded both in area and intensity, and I found myself massaging the muscles in her shoulders and neck, down her back to the edge of her cut-offs and back up her sides. My fingers briefly found the soft sides of her flattened breasts and moved on to her shoulders again. Again I worked down to her waist.

“Wait a minute,” she said, “I didn’t know you could give backrubs.” She lifted her hips and unbuttoned the waist band of her shorts. “Don’t pull them down too far,” she cautioned, “but this feels so good, I want you to rub my lower back, too.”

I slid my hands under her waistband and continued manipulating her muscles.

“Further down,” she said in a muffled voice. Soon I had both hands strongly working her ass cheeks; first one side, then the other. Then I turned my attention to her thighs. She spread her legs to accommodate my hands, which by now were only a couple of inches below her pussy.

Suddenly, she stiffened. The muscles I had spent nearly an hour relaxing were knotted in spasms. Her whole body vibrated and shuddered. Abruptly she rolled over, and pulled me down, holding me in a tight embrace while she kissed my mouth. “God, that was good!” she said. “It’s been so long since I had a good cum!”

Then she added, “Don’t you think you’re a little overdressed, too?” Now it was her turn to stare while I quickly undressed. My cock has never been longer or harder than it was at that moment. Candi reached out and gently wrapped her hand around it.

“It’s so soft and hard and hot. It’s been months since I’ve held a cock and never one as beautiful as yours.” Then she added, “Come closer so I can play with it.”

It had never occurred to me that someone might think a cock was beautiful. I tried to fit myself next to her on the couch, but there just wasn’t enough room. “Let’s go in here,” I said, leading the way into our bedroom.

Candi followed me, and as I sat on the edge of the bed, she quickly wiggled out of her pants and panties. She struck a pose. “Like what you see?”

Candi was cheerleader pretty, with a youthful frame, and skin that was without blemish. she arched her back, the better to display her perky breasts. Then she leaned forward and hugged me, pulling my head tightly against her firm breasts. Then she stepped back and, straddling my legs, she sat on my knees facing me. She was a tall girl, so her head was well above mine. “You’re the last one,” she said before she leaned forward and pressed her wet open mouth against mine.

The last one… what? This was no time to ask questions. Instead, I pulled her tightly against me, and after she broke the kiss, I pulled her further down so I could kiss the side of her neck while I stroked her side and let my fingernails caress her ribs. She shivered briefly and said, “That tickles!”

“That’s the idea,” I said as I resumed gently stroking her side and flank. “By the way,” I whispered in her ear, “what do you mean, ‘I’m the last one’?”

Somewhat surprisingly she blushed as she leaned back in my arms and stared in my face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but you might as well know that I did Herman at their ranch on Thanksgiving, and Bob when he was in Billings selling oil drilling stuff to daddy just after the first of the year. God, has it been that long since I got laid?”

Bob and Herman, like me, were sons-in-law married to Anne’s younger twin sisters. Bob and Sally lived in Sheridan, while Herman was running the family wheat ranch up near Sweetgrass.

“Do they know about each other?”

“I don’t know, and to tell you the truth, I don’t much give a damn. Susan and Sally gave me and Darrell a real bad time when Darrell went to jail. Now we’ve split, so fuck ‘em. I’ll screw their husbands every chance I get!”

This was more family history than I really wanted to know, but I had to ask, anyway. “What’s Anne ever done to you?”

“Nothing. It’s just that you were handy and I knew you must be as horny as I am.”

She abruptly threw her arms around me again, pushing me over backward on the bed. We rubbed our naked bodies together, rejoicing in the sliding, warm feel of each other. Then I began sucking and nibbling on her nearest nipple while teasing the other by gently tugging and twisting it. Candi began pumping my cock as if urging me to get on with the program, but I wanted this to be special; something she might remember for the rest of her life.

In those days, oral sex of almost any kind was regarded as a dirty perversion, something only hookers would perform and then, and then only if they were paid extra. Men who performed it on women were regarded as dirty, perverted “muff-divers.” Anne, however, was never inhibited by public opinion, and after our party with Helen, she had carefully and patiently instructed me both in female anatomy and the really fine art of cunnilingus. She trained me well.

Accordingly, I began to lick and kiss my way down to her navel, which I dampened with the tip of my tongue and then gently blew. Proceeding further, I passed over her mop of curly black pubic hair, and moved so my body was between her thighs.

She raised her knees, expecting me to enter her, but instead, I licked and kissed the inside of her thighs, nibbling very gently on her tender skin, first on one side, then on the other, gradually working my way toward the prize which lay between her thighs.

I continued to play with her nipples as I inched forward. When my nose reached her hair, I was rewarded with a swift intake of her breath. I thought she might try to stop me, but instead her legs opened even wider. Laying her hair to one side, I let the tip of my tongue trace an outline around her vulva, taking care to leave a trail of moisture behind. Then I gently blew on the moist surface.

Her thighs abruptly closed on my ears. I hunched myself a little closer, then with the pointed tip of my tongue, softly caressed the length of her slit, from bottom to top. When I reached the top, I touched a hard little nubbin, and Candi jumped as if she had received an electric shock. Her hands seized the back of my head and she tried to pull me closer into her pussy, but I resisted.

The way she was acting, I was pretty sure this was the first time anyone had gone down on her, so I gave her the full treatment, even though she began pleading with me to fuck her. When I did rise above her, she quickly steered my cock in the right direction, and after pressing firmly against her pussy I was rewarded by a distinct plop as the head of my cock forced its way inside her inner labia.

Even though my body was screaming for release as loudly as hers, I paused and wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tightly. Then I kissed her mouth, eyelids and cheeks, and slowly began working my turgid cock into her belly. As I had guessed, even though she was very wet, she was a tight fit. Her vaginal tissues yielded only very reluctantly as I thrust again, and again until my pubic bone rested against hers.

Again I held her in a tight embrace, letting my cock soak in her even though she was impatiently rocking her pelvis against mine. Then we began to fuck.

I lifted her legs to my shoulders, and with my hands on her shoulders, began to drive myself into her, harder, harder, harder, as her face contorted with effort as she climbed ever higher seeking her elusive orgasm.

I don’t know how long we fucked or even whether she was wearing a diaphragm. Her hot clasping tunnel was turning me inside out, and I found I was desperately trying to wedge my entire body in her magic garden, when, without warning, my cock began to spasm and squirt my seed deep inside her belly.

I was so preoccupied with my own delicious feeling of relief that I was floating down to earth before I felt her stomach muscles begin to undulate while her arms pulled me tightly against her breast. Her spasms gradually faded, and she pushed against my chest.

“Denny, you’re getting awfully heavy. Besides, I’ve got to douche.” She scrambled off the bed, and with her hand cupped between her thighs, ran into the bathroom.

When she returned a few minues later, I welcomed her with open arms, but she shook her head. “I didn’t bring my diaphram,” she said, “and I don’t want to get knocked up. I better sleep on the couch.”

Sadly, we never had an encore. I didn’t press the issue because there was no doubt about my potency. Both my children had been planned — for another time. Their mother was wearing her diaphram when each was conceived.

We later learned that Candi had moved to Denver and was either operating or working in a massage [bleep]. I’m sure she was good at it.

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